


The Strength of Foundations

by genarti



Series: Lunar Base ABC [8]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Friendship, Gen, Kevin (sort of), Tutoring, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5652052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genarti/pseuds/genarti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bahorel finds Marius Pontmercy in a minor difficulty, and does his best to assist.</p><p>(Or: This Homework Was Symbolic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Strength of Foundations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PilferingApples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilferingApples/gifts).



> For PilferingApples, who wanted a distraction and more Marius-Bahorel interaction! And for me because I am always delighted for the excuse to write more moon base fic.
> 
> Thanks to BobbieWickham for the quick beta!

"Good air, Student Marius! You could use the oxygen, from the look of you. What's put such a thunderous scowl on that porcelain brow?"

Bahorel crossed his arms on the back of an armchair and grinned down at Marius, whose glower (directed solely at the datapad on his knees) had shifted to a brief bewilderment at the description. "What?"

Bahorel lifted his own brows, which were considerably more adorned with piercings. "Am I wrong? Is your reading not doing you an insult or injustice? It can't be homework, then."

"No, but--" Marius flushed, and scowled down at his knees again. Sprawled on the lounge's couch as he was, and wrapped in a black jacket a size too big and two decades out of fashion, he looked like a petulant child. Bahorel smoothed down his bright pink Hadfield mustache to hide a smile. "It's homework, or rather it isn't exactly, but -- oh, it's a child's lesson! You all know this perfectly well."

Bahorel vaulted lightly over the back of the chair to thump cross-legged into its seat. Marius startled, wide-eyed as a lab mouse for an instant, and then scowled harder at his datapad. "A Lunar child's lesson, maybe." This only increased Marius's annoyance. "No, I don't mean any insult! You learned different lessons. I can't keep the countries of Europe straight -- Africa's about the only one I can properly label a map of, you know, and the Feuilly version of Antarctica's, which is to say scrawling _World Heritage Continent_ across the whole thing and calling it a day. And I've never even seen a thundercloud that wasn't on somebody's brow."

Distracted, Marius blinked at him. Since distraction had been precisely Bahorel's intention, he was satisfied to see it. "You -- Wait, but didn't you go to Earth?"

"Sure. Two weeks in Bogota, where it didn't happen to rain, and two in Alexandria, where it doesn't. Not in June, anyway, when I was there. I'd go back just to walk out in a storm, if I were willing to go back down there. They sound marvelous."

Marius looked away. "I... I guess they are. I hadn't thought about it."

"Ah, you do know them! I envy you that. You must tell me what it's like to stand out in the rain, sometime, if you're willing. Right now, if you like, and don't want to talk about whatever's annoying you in your homework that isn't homework."

Marius's flush, which had faded, went dull red again. Bahorel absently admired the way his cheeks coordinated with the rather ugly red couch he had found. "You're mocking me," he burst out. "Or you ought to be--"

"I am _not_ ," Bahorel protested, overlapping, with genuine indignation.

"--because I know perfectly well this is elementary, but I just can't understand the Atmospheric Resource Tariff strictures, everything we're assigned just takes them for granted--"

"Well of course you can't, you didn't grow up with them." 

Marius had clamped his mouth shut in order to stare with mulish outrage at his datapad, or possibly his threadbare knees. His fists were clenched, his shoulders a hunched curve like a hedgehog's prickly back. Bahorel was not a man given to reasonable tones of voice, but he managed to excavate one for this conversation. "We all grew up with those on every import-export form and every change to the supply shipments. Not to mention every Citizenship class long before the ominous shadow of dear Blondeau's name entered our carefree and innocent little heads. Of course you're missing the necessary context. No shame in that. How would you learn, if nobody's teaching you properly? Only a fool or a fiend would blame you for it!"

Marius's mouth worked slightly. His gaze shifted sideways. He didn't respond.

"Okay, look. I've got a hydroponics shift in two hours, but I'm free till then. Stop banging your head against whatever rock of an explanation you've found. Or is it the original strictures? They're tangled as a broken circuitboard and there've been fifty amendments since then, no wonder you're getting your tethers knotted, if it's that. Come with me to a caf. We'll have some coffee and I'll lay out the important parts for you, foundations on up. Deal?"

Marius considered the offer for some moments. Bahorel drummed his fingers against his leg and waited.

"Fine," said Marius at last, abruptly. "But I'm buying the coffee." He gave Bahorel a fierce glare, as if he expected argument.

Bahorel rolled his eyes. "Sure, if it'll make you happy. Be my guest."

"No," said Marius, obdurate. "You'll be mine." There was a pause, in which Bahorel bounded lightly to his feet and Marius tucked his datapad away with great care and nearly banged his shins on the table in standing up. "Thanks," he burst out, and shoved himself away down the corridor.

Bahorel rolled his eyes to the ceiling in eloquently tolerant affection, and followed.


End file.
